


Rainbow Paint

by ausfil



Category: Westlife
Genre: Angst, Closeted Character, Confidence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Pride, Happy pride month, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Makeup, Pride, Self Confidence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19175026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausfil/pseuds/ausfil
Summary: Safety. Happiness. Confidence. Fearlessness. Equality. Pride. Some of the things Pride Month is for; how everyone deserves to feel all the time.But the boy Nicky meets on the bus after the parade looks far from that.





	Rainbow Paint

**Author's Note:**

> Story inspired by this post ([x](https://twitter.com/aghanaiangirl/status/1136712579416514562)) because it made me really sad, and no one should have to feel this way. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope your Pride Month is filled with lots of love and rainbows!

If someone told a young 13 year-old Nicky that he would be in a Pride parade seven years later, celebrating a part of himself that he had so desperately tried to hide for so long, he would have laughed in their faces.

Or he would have cried, like he almost is right now, waving at people on the sidelines, glitter flaring on his cheeks and the wind riding his hair as he strutted down the parade in a pair of high heels.

Nicky wants to show the world. He wants to show everyone who has ever told him that he was disgusting, sinning, that he wasn’t worthy of love. He wants to show them that he’s dancing on top of their heads. That people are watching him and celebrating with him in a space that he had spent arduous years to reach. That he is comfortable with who he is. Fuck, that he is so goddamn _proud_ of who he is and wouldn’t change it for the world.

That he’s finally happy.

He does a spin on the concrete, high-fives a stranger behind the barriers, and the sound of his heels clicking is music pumping through his veins.

***

He climbs on the bus. It’s easily past midnight. He feels like his veins are still throbbing.

The bus driver almost gives him a weird look, but instead it transforms into a kind smile, encouragement. “Looked like a really good festival for you guys. Had a good night?”

“An awesome night. Cheers,” Nicky smiles back and goes to take a seat.

The bus is full of people like him. People with rainbow flags sticking out of their bags, glitter kissing drunk faces, kissing content smiles.

And a boy sitting across from him, eyes brimming with tears as he bites his lips smeared with red lipstick. The boy sniffs and scrubs his lips with tissue - it almost looks like blood from a battlefield. Nicky knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t take his eyes away.

“Fuck…” the boy mutters underneath his breath and swipes the tissue across his eyelid that’s glimmering with purple eyeshadow. There are stars beneath his eyes; bright stickers that are ripped off like band-aids one by one. Nicky winces.

The tissue is moved down to the boy’s cheeks, trying to erase the hopeful colours of the rainbow painted on his skin. It doesn’t work. Nicky knows. He’s tried. For over a decade, he’s tried. The cheeks are still marked with rainbow paint that the boy doesn’t seem to want. His cheeks are so red and scratched Nicky feels bad for him.

The tissue rips.

Something in the boy’s eyes break.

He dumps his head into his hands. The tissue falls to the floor. His shoulders tremble. Faint sobs are drowned by loud oblivious chattering from the back of the bus, and he looks so small. So alone. So scared.

Something in Nicky’s heart breaks.

Nicky gets up to sit beside him. “Tissue won’t do it, love.” Damp hazel eyes look up at him, sparkling underneath this dim bus light. And pretty, despite the smudged make-up. “Are you okay?”

The boy wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I just um… I have to get this off.” A soft sob shakes through him. Nicky feels a lump in his throat. “And it’s not coming off.”

Nicky carefully nods. “What’s your name?”

“Shane.”

“I’m Nicky,” he puts a hand forward. Shane’s cold hand comes to shake it. The grip’s feeble but clinging, like he really just needed a hand to hold. Nicky feels black tar settle in his chest. “I have make-up remover in my bag if you’d like to use it. Facial wipes.”

“Really?” Shane looks up at him again with eyes as wide as the world, a small puppy that just found a river, and Nicky huffs out a chuckle. “That would be great. Thank you.”

Nicky digs it out from his bag. Shane looks at him as if he pulled an oasis out of his ass when he hands it over.

“Thank you so much,” Shane croaks, a tub of tears barely stopped at the top of his throat.

Nicky watches silently as Shane rubs off his makeup, seeing his eyes tremor through the mirror. “Why do you have to take it off? It looks gorgeous on you.” Nicky doesn’t know if it’s okay to ask but he does it anyway. Kind of regrets it when Shane freezes for a few seconds, nervous lips tingling.

“Just…” There’s an absent shrug before Shane slowly starts rubbing the rainbow off of his cheek again. “I’m going back home. I don’t want to have all this on my face when I get there.”

“Why not?”

Shane’s eyes sag. Nicky really regrets it now, but he wants to know.

The boy sighs and puts his mirror down for a second. “I’m from Sligo. It’s not exactly the most… open-minded place. I’d rather not get jumped, you know?” Shane voice trembles a little, but he smiles. It’s possibly a smile that aches more than Nicky had ever seen before.

“Right,” Nicky mutters. He feels useless. He wants to offer something. Doesn’t know what he has to offer. Nothing much, really. “I hope you had a good time tonight at least.”

“The best,” the smile seems more genuine this time. Nicky’s glad. “You um… I remember you. From the parade. You were amazing in it.”

“Oh,” Nicky feels a slight blush ink his cheeks. He crosses his legs. “Thank you.”

Shane looks straight into his eyes. Bright hazel orbs that were no longer clouded by the fearful tears from minutes ago. There’s still half of the makeup left with little blots across his face. This is somehow prettier. Like Nicky’s getting a glimpse of who this boy really is, of the sweet heart inside a locked closet that just wants to see more of the world.

“I wish I had the confidence you have,” Shane croons.

“Believe me, it took me a good decade to build this up.”

“I wouldn’t believe that for a second. I feel like you were strutting out of your mum’s womb belting to Kylie Minogue.” Shane nudges him with his elbow. “No but really it’s… Yeah. It’s really cool. Wish I could just wear makeup that I want everyday and wear clothes I feel comfortable in. Not giving a fuck about who’s gonna yell at me on the streets or who’s gonna judge. I’ve never done that. Ever."

“Why don’t you? Fuck it. And you look really good in makeup. It’d be a waste!”

Nicky nudges him this time. Hears a gentle song of laughter hit him as Shane rocks. The moroseness in those drooped eyes escape through the window as they’re danced into sweet curved lines. God, Nicky hopes this bus breaks down in the middle of the street for just a few extra minutes.

“Yeah and have my entire town hate me? No thanks.”

“Jesus, your town sounds like shit. You should move or something.”

“I really should,” Shane sighs and leans his head back to look up towards the bus ceiling. “I’ve never kissed in public. Or went out with a boyfriend on a proper date. I couldn’t do anything. _Can’t_ do anything.”

Nicky puts a hand on Shane’s thigh. Feels his throat clump.

He remembers feeling like that when he was younger. When he went on a date for the first time with a boy, it had felt like the entire world was scowling at him. For months, he had looked back over his shoulder every few seconds just to double-check that no one was going to jump them. The pure fear that comes with doing the most normal of acts, just because it’s seen as different. He wants the world to understand this feeling, because it’s really fucking unfair.

“I’ve never even had the guts to hold hands with someone in public.” Shane closes his eyes and bites down on a sullen lip. A hint of lipstick smudges on the bottom of his teeth.

“I can help with that.” Nicky lilts and entwines his fingers with Shane’s.

Shane’s chest tightens. He opens his eyes and looks down. Two hands clasped together, fingers mapping out his hand, and this feels right. So right. He swallows hard and allows a small smile to seep out as he grabs back, his hand for the first time being blessed by another warm, welcoming palm.

“Now you’ve done one thing. Congrats.” Nicky grazes his thumb over Shane’s knuckles, and a bittersweet taste swirls in his mouth when Shane smiles at the small act. He feels bad for him. More, because he knows the exact thoughts going through that head this very moment; the emotions and anxiety and relief twirling in his chest at once; a chaotic tornado that embodies truth. Nicky knows that so well. So he holds him tighter.

Shane stays quiet for a while. He just gazes over their hands, lips wriggling, not knowing what to do with himself except to try and comprehend this. Then he tears up again. “God, sorry,” he wipes his eyes with an awkward chuckle. “I’m pathetic.”

“It’s fine, love.” Nicky uses his other hand to catch drops. Smiles when they seep into his skin and become a part of him.

Shane lets out a shuddery sigh. “Thanks, Nicky. For everything tonight. You- Oh.“ He whizzes his head around to the window.

“You alright?”

“I have to get off at the next stop. Train station.” Shane presses the Stop button. Nicky wants to know if there’s maybe a way to _un_ press it.

“Oh,” Nicky tries to hide his disappointment when Shane’s fingers slip away from his. Feels like he failed horribly. “Well I um, I hope you feel better.”

“You made me feel better. Thank you.” Shane gives him a kiss of the cheek, then blushes. Looks a little stunned at himself. Nicky tries not to laugh. “I- Sorry, I don’t know what that was, I… Yeah. Um. Anyways. Thanks for this,” he lifts the facial wipe.

Nicky digs his bag again and hands over the whole packet. “Just in case you need it. I have plenty at home.”

Shane smiles. “You really saved my night.”

The bus stops. Damn it. Shane gets up from his seat.

“Have a safe trip home,” Nicky says uselessly. God, he hates himself. Surely he could have come up with something cooler to say. “Bye.”

Nope. Apparently he couldn’t.

Shane waves at him and heads towards the door. Nicky really may never see this boy again. He really wants to see this boy again.

“Wait!” Nicky darts up. Shane looks back at him. “Sorry, can I just…” Nicky takes the wet wipe from Shane’s hand. In the middle of smudged make-up, rainbow paint, tears, he scribbles down his number quickly. He feels the entire bus watching him. Shane accepts it with a bashful smile, a scratch on the back of his head. “If you’re ever in Dublin again, or… I don’t know. If you want to chat, maybe. Have your first phone call in public with a boy. Give me a call if you’d like.”

Shane smirks and nods. He holds the messy facial wipe tight in his hand and leans up to give him another kiss on the cheek. He looks sure of it this time. “Night, Nicky.”

And with that, Shane exits the bus.

Nicky lets out a nervous sigh and turns to apologise to the bus driver who’s probably mad. But no. He gets a nice wink and a thumbs up instead.

He sits back down and closes his eyes, hoping Shane’s kiss bloomed rainbow paint on his cheek.


End file.
